


Between the Rocks and a Hard Case

by Amorette



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>June 2002 Challenge from the Late, Great Golden Apple List:  Fill in a "missing scene" from the episode King of Thieves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Rocks and a Hard Case

Between the Rock and Hard Case

by Amorette

Perhaps, thought Iolaus, shifting as the rock settled back into place on the board across his shoulders, he should have let the king cut off his head. It might be easier than this ridiculous Erebus test. Surviving the dunking wasn't too bad--Iolaus was great at slowing down his heartbeat and holding his breath--but balancing these stones was a little more difficult. Still, he had learned a few tricks over the years.

Dirce, poor, deluded girl, had wandered off. Iolaus suspected she didn't want to see him slowly squashed. She was nice person, really, and well intentioned and she did have nice eyes and great breasts but. . .

Focus, Iolaus told himself silently and firmly. Thinking about Dirce's breasts wasn't going to get him through this. Thinking about nothing was the trick. Unfortunately, thinking about nothing was rather difficult when you were bent double under a load of rocks piled on piece of wood. Rough sawn wood, at that. It was digging into his shoulder blades unmercifully.

Find your center, Iolaus commanded his body. Find the point of balance so he only had to sway slightly to keep the load from slipping. Ignore the way being bent double made it damned difficult to breath. Ignore the pain in his shoulders and neck from the board and down his legs from the weight. Drift away from all that. There is nothing but the balance. Nothing. No pain. No weight. No Iolaus.

He was far away from this accursed country, standing straight and still, balanced on one leg, the other bent sideways so the bottom of his foot rested on the knee of his supporting leg. His arms weren't stretched out painfully behind him but folded in front of him so he could hold his hands pressed together, palm to palm, fingers straight. There weren't trickles of burning sweat running down his face to drop the ground. There was only a light breeze blowing his hair back off his brow. He wasn't staring at the trampled, wet grass beneath his feet but at the wall of the monastery across the narrow mountain valley.

There was a pattern inscribed on the wall, a circle within a square, a mandala, the monks called it. He hadn't yet learned a word that described the shape in his own language so mandala it was. The circle was divided in half but not on a straight line. The two halves were curved, like raindrops bent around each other. The yin and yang of life, said the monks.

Yin and yang. Light and dark. Male and female. Dirce's breasts. Don't. There is no pressure, no weight, no pain. Only the one and the other. Up and down. In and out. Don't think about that, either. Right and wrong. Pressing someone was wrong.

Iolaus blew out a breath sharply, then drew another in slowly. He was standing balanced on one leg, the other leg turned out so the bottom of his foot rested against the curve of the knee joint of his supporting leg. Standing. Balanced. Staring across the valley at the symbol. Left and right. Present and past. In the present, Iolaus was being squashed. In the past, Iolaus was meditating on a mountaintop. 

Once you find this place, this old monk had said, you'll always be able to come back here when you need to. And when you are here, there is no place else. There is nothing but the Here and the Now. The balance and the center. Existence and nonexistence no longer matter. Only the Here. The Now. The Balance.

No freshly dug graves. No sorrow. No grief. No weight. No pain. Only Here. Only Now. Only Balance.

The two guards had been betting how long it would take the prisoner to collapse under the weight. He looked to be in excellent shape, with well defined muscles and enough strength to hold the weight in the first place but he was no Atlas. No Hercules. He'd shift a little too far, one knee would bend under the pressure, and it would be over.

He'll be down before the goat over there crosses through the gate. No, said another, he'll last longer than that. Look how long he stayed under water. He'll last until the guard changes on the city wall. Never, said a third, and I'll bet half a week's pay he is down before the change.

The guards stared at the man, growing more puzzled by the moment. There was no sign of strain on the man's face. If anything, he looked perfectly content, staring at the drops of sweat falling off his face onto the toes of his boots. His brow wasn't furrowed, he wasn't gasping each breath. He looked, well, peaceful almost, standing there, the load seemingly no more than a feather on his back.

The shift changed on the city wall and the replacements came out to collect the body of the man who stole the jewels. Imagine their surprise when they arrived and found their fellow guards watching, mouths agape, as the man stood, the board across his back, his lips curved into a faint smile.

"By the gods," breathed the sergeant of the guard, "Maybe he is innocent! Get those rocks off, boys!"

There was only the Balance. The perfect Balance. Nothing else. And then the balance shifted and Iolaus had to fight to maintain it. Then it shifted again. And again. And someone was saying something.

"It's all right, lad," came a gruff voice. "You've passed the test. By Ares' balls, I don't know how you did it. Straighten up there, careful now."

Iolaus blinked and stared at the stranger in front of him, a stocky man with graying hair and dark eyes. 

"Did you say something?" said Iolaus.

"What's that?" The sergeant frowned. "Are you wits addled, lad?"

Ah. Iolaus tried again, this time in Greek. "Is the test over?"

"IOLAUS!" 

Dirce's shriek made him jump, which he regretted as his abused muscles screamed in complaint. It seems he had survived the second test. Iolaus sighed. He only hoped the third was something easy. He could use a break.

June 2002


End file.
